


The Dotted Line

by TristansGirl



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, OOCness, mindfuckery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-06
Updated: 2011-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TristansGirl/pseuds/TristansGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long prompt is long. For the kinkmeme . . . Tommy really needs this gig in Adam's band. He's got a lot of family debts to help pay off and he needs an escape before he succumbs to a world of drugs and darkness. Adam knows all of this and gives Tommy the job even though he'd had a lot of bassists to choose from. In signing the contract, though, Tommy basically has to agree to be Adam's property, allowing Adam to treat him however he wants and use him for whatever he wants. Desperate to help his family, Tommy agrees. [It's not literally in the legal contract, but it's a condition that Adam made very, very clear in his spoken terms before allowing Tommy to sign.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The very first Adam/Tommy I ever wrote. I got Tommy so wrong . . .
> 
> This story is about as dark as I go. It's pretty damn dark. And I kid you not - it is not pretty. At all. Here there be dragons and all that

Tommy stared at the guy sitting across the table and thought, _Suit_

He wasn't a big fan of suits. And even though the guy wasn't wearing one, he still was one. He was corporate and legal and the kind of person that Tommy had worked his whole life not to become.

Tommy was being polite though, on his best behavior, because this particular suit just happened to work for Adam Lambert. And Adam Lambert could literally change Tommy's life.

"So, Tommy. Can I call you Tommy?" the suit asked.

"Yeah, man. Whatever."

"Great. So, Tommy. Adam really enjoyed your audition. And he thinks you could fit in really well with the rest of the band. You've got the look, you've got the attitude . . . "

Tommy leaned forward, his heart beating just a little faster. This sounded good, this sounded really good. "Yeah?"

"The problem is, while you're a good bassist, there are a lot of others out there far better than you."

"Oh." Tommy sat back, feeling deflated. That sounded like a dismissal, like a 'thanks for playing, here's your parting gift.' "So I didn't get the job?"

The suit held up a hand. "Not necessarily. Adam is willing to give you a chance. Give you the position over more experienced players, if you agree to certain terms."

"What kind of terms?"

The suit gave a casual shrug. "Adam really likes you. I mean he really likes you. And he will give you this opportunity as long as you're willing to . . . how shall we say . . . be open to any direction that Adam might give you."

There was something about the way the man had said those words, something low and sly and dirty that made Tommy feel like he needed to take a cleansing shower. The man had done everything but waggle his eyebrows suggestively at him.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Look, it's not that difficult to grasp. If Adam becomes your employer, then whatever Adam says, goes. Whatever Adam wants, whatever he needs from you, he will get. No questions, no complaints."

Tommy felt himself flushing with anger, his skin growing hot, his hands curling into fists. He was about two seconds away from bolting. Or punching the suit. Or maybe both. "Fuck you, all right? He wants to have sex with me in exchange for this job? Fuck that. I'm not a whore. He wants that, he should go troll the fucking streets like every other pervert."

"Come on, now. Did I say that? I never said that. All I said is that you need to be open to anything Adam needs. That's all. It's not going to be in your official contract. It's just an understanding. Between you and him."

"All right, fuck you. This is over." Tommy stood, preparing to walk away. He was still tempted to hit the guy, but a crowded restaurant during the lunch rush probably wasn't the best place to show how indignant he was. And yes, he needed the money and yes he needed this job. But he didn't need it that badly. He'd find another way. Fuck this suit. Fuck Adam Lambert.

He hadn't even moved away from the table when he felt the suit's hand wrap around his wrist, hard, holding him still. "Tommy, don't make a hasty decision. We both know you need this job."

"Not that bad, man."

"You're twenty-eight years old. In the world of music, that's ancient. You've been in failed band after failed band. You have no other prospects."

"I'll find something." Tommy gave his wrist a half-hearted tug, not at all surprised when the suit didn't let go.

"These are tough times. Your father losing his job like that. Your mother's hours getting cut. How close are your parents to losing that house to foreclosure, anyway?"

Tommy fell back down in the seat. "Don't."

"And your sister? Still working for minimum wage, barely making her own rent . . . "

"Don't bring my family into this," Tommy whispered.

"I'm only stating some simple facts." The suit smiled. "Think about it, Tommy. Adam's star is on the rise . . . hell, he's already meteoric. He's going to go places. You could be a part of that. And you could help your family. All you have to do is . . . go along. That's not so bad, is it?"

Go along. That's what the suit called it. Going along meant being Adam Lambert's what? Gopher? Whore? A little of both? He had to admit, the suit was good. Subtle enough that the comments could be taken innocently, but delivered with enough innuendo that anyone with half a brain could see that they weren't. The question now was, could he do it?

The suit shifted, pushing his seat away from the table as if he were going to stand. "Well, you think about it. You can give me your answer tomorrow."

"What if he hires me and I don't go along?" Tommy asked.

"Then he fires your sorry ass and you and your parents and sister can go live in a fucking crack den." The suit smiled again, wide and bright. "How's that?"

"Jesus. You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Funny."

"I'm not even gay. Doesn't that matter to him?"

"Does it appear that it matters?"

When Tommy didn't answer, the suit stood up. "Like I said, think about it."

"I don't have to," Tommy said. He kept his eyes lowered, focusing on the table. It was easier that way, not to have to look the suit in the face. Easier to pretend that he still had some shred of dignity left. "I don't have to think about it. You know I need this job. So yeah, I'll do it. I'll go along. Whatever. I'll do it."

He knew the suit was smiling, even if he couldn't see it. And somehow he knew that the smile was cold. Predatory.

"Wonderful. We'll have the contract drawn up right away. Adam will be very pleased."

Tommy nodded. He still couldn't look up, still couldn't face the man. "Yeah, great. Adam will be pleased. Wonderful."


	2. Chapter 2

Tommy signed the contract a few days after the meeting with the suit. A few days after that, he was meeting Adam Lambert for the first time. It was a band meeting, a 'get to know one another' meeting before rehearsals started. Tommy had prepared himself for just about anything, so he was surprised when he found Adam to be polite, funny, almost disarmingly sweet.

He started to wonder if he'd misunderstood the suit. Maybe it had been a game. Or a test.

A few days after that they shot the video for Adam's first single. It was the director's idea that Tommy rub up against Adam, play off of him and Tommy had no problem with that. That was stage interaction - everybody did that.

By the time they started practicing for the AMA's, Tommy was feeling like an idiot for how badly he'd misread everything. Adam was never anything less than a complete gentleman around him. What's more he seemed like a genuinely cool guy, the kind you could talk movies and music with for hours.

Everything was going so smoothly, better than Tommy could have ever hoped. A dream come true.

Until the kiss.

His first, gut instinct was to pull away, but he somehow managed to control it, to stay still and accept the kiss even as his knees buckled from the force of it. The words go along echoed in his mind, over and over, until the kiss finally ended.

He wanted to wipe at his lips, to stalk away, but he didn't. He'd been doing this far too long to let his mortification overcome his professionalism. He kept playing, albeit it with his head down, and when he walked off the stage, he just kept walking.

By the time they flew into New York and checked into their individual rooms, Tommy was exhausted. And confused. And fucking pissed off. He'd told his family to watch the show. He'd told all his friends. They'd all seen it. Just the thought of that made him want to crawl under the bedspread and never come back out.

When the phone rang, he was lying listlessly on the bed, wondering if it was worth the effort to unpack. He sat up and put the receiver to his ear. "Hello?"

"Come to my room, Tommy."

"Adam?"

"Who else? And hurry. I'm not a big fan of being kept waiting."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy went, walking down the hallway like a man about to face a firing squad. He tried to imagine what would happen once inside Adam's room, then decided that it was better not to think about it too much. It was bad enough that he was already starting to perspire, his stomach doing uneasy somersaults that made him want to double over.

By the time he walked into Adam's room, he was pretty sure that his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. He took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists, trying to quell the tiny tremors that made them shake.

Adam had locked the door behind him, then moved to sit down on the bed. He was wearing a white, fluffy robe and smiling that megawatt smile of his, the one that Tommy had become so familiar with.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Tommy asked. And ok, his voice shook a little, but only a little.

"You're angry about the performance? About the kiss?"

"I just wish you would have warned me, man," Tommy said. He found himself relaxing, his fists unclenching. Adam only wanted to talk about what happened tonight. That made sense. "I mean, we rehearsed it like a hundred times. If you wanted to change it, you could have told me."

Adam motioned for him to come closer. "It really wasn't planned. I got caught up in the moment. Something like that won't happen again unless we rehearse it."

"Oh, ok. Well, that's cool man. I guess. I mean . . . just let me in on it, you know?"

"Right. I've gotta say, you really took it like a champ. You impressed me with how well you handled it."

Tommy wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Had it even been a compliment? "Um . . . thank you?"

"Makes me think that you're going to be able to handle our little arrangement just fine."

And just like that, the tension was back. "What do you mean?" Tommy asked.

Adam spread his legs, just a little, and pointed to the floor. "Come here."

"I . . ."

"Now."

Tommy forced his legs to move, walking the short distance to where Adam sat. As he did, his mind retreated into active denial. Adam only wanted to talk. Nothing was going to happen. Adam was a good guy. He'd misunderstood the suit.

And then Adam smiled. "Kneel, Tommy."

Tommy's entire world dropped out from under him with those two little words. He cast a brief glance toward the door. He could leave. He could walk away. End this.

He could, but he didn't. He dropped to his knees while his inner monologue turned into a cheerleader. He could do this. He could. He could go along. He had to go along.

He felt Adam's fingers running through his bangs, watched as Adam pulled open the robe. He was naked underneath of course. Tommy had known that all along. But knowing it in your head and seeing it were two different things. He'd never been this close to a guy's dick before. Had never wanted to be. And he didn't want to be now. He really, really didn't want to be now.

"Adam . . ."

"It's just a blow job, honey," Adam said, fingers now stroking underneath his jaw. "It won't kill you."

"Dude, I don't think I can do this."

Adam pulled his hand away, bringing it back instantly for a solid, open-handed smack across his face. Tommy rocked back from the force of it, but managed not to fall. He lifted his own hand to the spot; tingling and hot and fuck but that had hurt.

"What the fuck was that for?"

"No questions. No complaints. Remember? That was starting to sound like a complaint. At the very least whining and I really hate whining."

Tommy inhaled, shaky and deep. He kept his eyes to the ground, unable to look at Adam now. "Ok. Ok. It's just, I don't know how."

Adam's fingers were back, underneath his chin, tipping his face up. When he dared to look, he could see that Adam was smiling in amusement.

"You're so cute when you say things like that." Adam's thumb touched Tommy's bottom lip, rubbing against it slightly, urging his mouth to open. "So pretty. You're so pretty, Tommy. I made the right choice with you."

Tommy wasn't sure if he supposed to answer. Not that he could have spoken even if he wanted to. His mouth had gone very dry, the air all but sucked from his lungs. He jumped when he felt Adam's hand reach around to the back of his neck.

"It's easy, though. No teeth. Move up and down. You can use your hand to help. The rest you learn as you go."

Tommy moved forward, guided by the insistent pressure against his neck. He reached out, tentatively, with his tongue, letting it slide up against the head of Adam's cock.

And that made it real, that first taste. There was no comfort in denial now. This was going to happen.


	3. Chapter 3

It was harder than he thought it would be. For one thing, it was harder not to use teeth than he'd thought. He slipped a couple of times, his teeth grazing Adam's length, and was quickly reprimanded by a harsh tug on his hair.

It was also supremely uncomfortable, and he made a quick mental note to beg forgiveness of every girl that he had ever asked this of. Maybe it had something to do with Adam's size, huge, maybe it didn't, but it was hard for Tommy to catch his breath and there was a dull ache in his jaw that only seemed to grow with each passing second.

And every once in a while, when Adam pushed his head down too far, too fast, he'd choke and have to pull away, frantic and desperate, only to have Adam push him back down a second later.

Mid-way through, he remembered that he could use his hand, and that helped. It gave him some control, and he could use the extra pressure it created to wring the kind of low, breathy moans from Adam that could only mean he was getting him closer.

"Fuck, baby. Nearly there," Adam said, voice high and thin. "In your mouth or on your face. What do you think, Tommy? Can't decide."

Tommy tried not to let the words affect him, tried not to think about how they made him feel, used and cheap, as if he were starring in a bad porno. He focused instead on the fact that it was almost over. He was almost done and then he could go back to his room and wash his mouth out until Adam's taste was nothing but a memory. And then he would get completely shit-faced until even the memory was erased.

"In your mouth, ok?" Adam asked, except that it wasn't really a question. "You're going to swallow it, all of it, Tommy, like a good boy."

Tommy winced at the pressure at his scalp, tight to the point of pain, as if Adam were trying to pull his hair from his head. And when Adam's body went still and taut and obscene words began to slip from his mouth, Tommy forced himself not to pull away, to accept the liquid rushing down his throat.

He took as much as he could, but some still slid down his chin as he drew away. He tried to stand, but found himself weak, limbs shaky, and he all but slumped to the floor.

He coughed, wiping at his mouth, while his eyes stung and his throat burned, the taste of Adam strong and overpowering on his tongue. He thought back to a girlfriend he once had, how she had liked to experiment in bed. How she had sucked him til he came, then held it in her mouth, kissing it back to him with a wicked smile.

Thanks to her, he knew what come tasted like, but he'd never in a million years expected that he could ever compare and contrast.

The thought made him giggle, although it wasn't a healthy laugh. It was too high. Rough and twisted and wrong.

"What are you laughing at?" Adam asked.

Tommy looked up, feeling defiant in his moment of madness. "I just had a guy come down my throat. I'm freaking out a little, ok?"

Adam didn't answer. He stared at Tommy as if here were studying him, learning through sight alone. After a moment, Adam nodded and his lips turned upward, the start of a smile.

"I get it. But I don't like it when people laugh at me."

And then he lashed out, open palm against Tommy's cheek and Tommy staggered.

"Don't laugh at me again."

"What the fuck is your problem? Why are you even doing this?" Tommy spat out, hand rubbing lightly against his cheek. "You can have anyone you want. They'd be lined up around the fucking block for you! And they'd be willing! So why are you doing this to me? Why me?"

Adam leaned forward, letting his fingertips graze the side of Tommy's face. "Because I want you, Tommy. No one else. Just you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam let him leave soon after that. The second he was back in his own room, Tommy brushed his teeth, took a shower. Brushed his teeth again.

Then he broke into the minibar and got as drunk as he possibly could. But none of it, absolutely nothing he did, could erase the taste of Adam from his tongue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy stood in front of the hotel's bathroom mirror, his fingers running through his bangs over and over. It was more a calming gesture than anything else, a way to soothe nerves that buzzing, jangled.

In less than forty minutes they'd rendezvous in the lobby and head on over to the Letterman show.

The Letterman show.

It was hard to believe sometimes, that this was his life now. Never in a million years would he have believed that he'd be playing on national tv. It was everyone's dream, to achieve this level of fame with their music. To love what you were doing and be recognized for it. Although, and he hated to admit it, this was not his achievement; not really. It wasn't even his music. This was all Adam's. He was merely along for the ride.

He turned away from the mirror just as the phone rang in the other room. He froze, certain it was Adam, heart leaping in his chest at the thought that he was being summoned again. He considered ignoring it, going down to the lobby early and waiting for everyone else. If it was Adam, he could tell him that he'd never heard it, that he'd been downstairs already.

But what if he got caught lying? What would Adam do then? The terms of the agreement were clear - he had to be available to Adam. He had to be open.

He answered the phone, hoping and praying that he'd be wrong, that it wasn't Adam.

It was.

"Come over, Tommy."

Tommy's grip on the receiver tightened, his knuckles growing white. "We have to be downstairs soon," he said quietly, hoping that the words wouldn't be taken as a complaint.

"I don't give a flying fuck. Come over."

Tommy sighed, defeated. "I'll be right there."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy walked into Adam's room, acutely aware that Adam was locking the door behind him. He tried not to cringe when he felt Adam's hands on his shoulders, gripping tight and hard before they ran down his arms. He didn't pull away when Adam turned him around, nor did he react when Adam kissed him, save to open his mouth for him, to give Adam full access to him.

And it wasn't so bad really. A kiss from a man wasn't all that different from a kiss from a woman. And this one was slow, almost tender. If he closed his eyes, let himself get lost in the sensation of it, he could almost pretend that he wanted this.

Seconds later, Adam broke the kiss, pulling their bodies apart before he walked across the room.

"I wanted to talk to you about something."

Tommy nodded, feeling relieved. Kissing and talking. That he could handle. "Sure."

"I was reading some stuff on the internet. It seems a lot of people like you. Like us. Together. Our kiss went over really well."

"Ok. So, that's good?" Tommy asked.

"Very," Adam said. "So we're going to engage in a little fanservice. Do you know what that is?"

"No."

"We're going to keep the fans happy. Give them what they want. You and I are going to play off of each other on stage. We're going to be close at events. Friendly. Touchy-feely. Get it?"

Tommy thought he did. "So, like, stage gay? Except all the time?"

"That's my boy," Adam said, sounding proud that Tommy had understood the concept. "Can you handle it?"

Tommy lifted his chin, crossing his arms in front of him. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

And then Adam reached down, his hand lingering at his waist for a moment before his fingers caught the zipper on his pants, pulling it down.

Tommy took a step back, pure instinct.

"Want to try something. Get on the bed, Tommy."

"We . . . we have to go," Tommy said, stumbling over his words like a scared, little boy. "There's no time-"

"Why do you want to piss me off when you were doing so well?" Adam asked, his voice cold. Did anyone else ever hear him sound like that, Tommy wondered even as he obeyed. Was he ever this cruel to anyone else?

"On your back. Just like that. A little farther back. Perfect."

Tommy did as he was told, did not protest or fight when Adam began to position him as one would a doll. By the time Adam was finished with him, he lay horizontally across the bed, his head hanging off of it, so that his view of the world was upside-down.

He'd seen a couple of pornos where the girl had been in this position. He'd found it sexy at the time. He was pretty sure he never would again.

"Open," Adam said, still directing. "Now put your arms around my waist. Keep them there and don't move."

A small sound escaped Tommy before he could bite it back. A whimper, small and strangled. He closed his eyes when he felt Adam's hand caressing his cheek.

"Sh...it's ok. I'm going to do all the work this time. All you have to do is lie still and take it."

And yes, maybe it was that easy. To lie still and accept it, let his mind drift while Adam did what he had to do.

Except that it wasn't easy. If anything, it was worse than the first time. It was impossible to breathe and he kept choking on Adam's length, his jaw aching after only a few moments.

This was so much worse, to have no control, to feel open and vulnerable and taken. So much worse to be at someone's mercy.

It seemed to last a very long time, long enough for the beginning of stinging tears to trickle down the side of Tommy's face, but eventually Adam pulled out, telling him to turn over in a voice that was hoarse and breathless. Tommy did, barely had time to roll to his side, when he felt warm liquid splash against his cheek, his mouth, his neck.

He felt a rush of nausea assault him, but managed to fight it back. Adam had told him. He'd said that next time would be on his face. He should have known. The money shot. It was time for the money shot.

He hung his head low and bit back the hysterical laughter that was threatening to bubble out of him. He remembered, all too clearly, that Adam didn't like being laughed at.

"Can I go now?" he asked, surprised at how he sounded, hoarse and breathless like Adam. Fucked out. Fucked up.

Adam dropped down to his knees, bringing their faces nearly level. Tommy tensed, unsure of what was coming next. And then Adam slid a finger through the mess on his face, bringing it to Tommy's lips.

"This is so fucked up. You know that, right?" Tommy asked.

"That's what makes it fun," Adam said. And then he pushed the finger past Tommy's lips, sliding it over his tongue. "You're so good, Tommy. Such a natural. My perfect. Little. Cocksucker."

Tommy swallowed what was given to him, then turned his head, eyes downcast. "Can I just fucking go now?"

Adam laughed. "Yeah. Go wash your face," he said, sounding almost kind. "We have a show to do."


	4. Chapter 4

Time marched on and thing began to fall into a routine for Tommy. Flirt with Adam in front of the cameras. Behind closed doors - a hand job here, a blow job there.

Never in a million years would he have imagined that something like that could become routine for him, but there it was. It was either adjust or completely fall apart. And he wasn't about to fall apart.

Not that it was ever easy. Adam's kinks ran too far into the realm of domination and humiliation for it ever to be easy. But Tommy had picked up some tricks, through trial and error mostly. He knew what Adam liked now, how to speed the process up, get it over and done with quickly while still keeping Adam happy.

But still, he wasn't perfect. He'd messed up on Ellen. Huge, ugly mistake. He hadn't interacted properly with Adam; had gotten lost in the music and forgotten.

Adam had made sure that he knew just how badly he'd messed up. That night, in the privacy of the hotel room, Adam had been rough to the point of abuse. And when he'd threatened to kick Tommy out of the band, to kick him back out on the streets, Tommy had dropped to his knees and begged, desperate and afraid that he'd fucked up everything up. He'd begged, pleaded and promised Adam that he would be good, that he wouldn't make another mistake and to please give him another chance.

The relief when Adam had said yes nearly dropped him to the floor.

And yes, sometimes it was hard to look in the mirror. And yes, sometimes he lay awake at night feeling lost and sick. But it was worth it. It had to be. His parents still had their house, his sister wasn't freaking about paying the rent.

It was worth it.

And besides, it wasn't always bad. Today, for example. Today, Adam was fairly glowing through rehearsal, eyes bright and smile wide and kind for everyone.

Tommy kept his distance - no cameras - but he still overhead when Lisa had asked him why he was in such a good mood.

"Gonna see Kris tonight," Adam answered. "Just me and him, like the old days."

"You mean Kris Allen?" Lisa asked in the kind of sing-song voice only girls could get away with.

"The one and only," Adam said. "It's been so long since we've seen each other. I'm kind of jonesing to get out of here actually."

Tommy hazarded a look over toward them, surprised at what he saw. Adam looked . . . well, radiant. There was no other word for it, as if he were literally glowing from the inside with happiness. Tommy watched for another moment, then turned away, no longer listening.

So that's how it was with them. Or at least with Adam. Last he'd heard, Kris was married and straight so maybe it was all one-sided. Either way, it didn't matter to him. What mattered was that Adam was happy, in a good mood and was leaving him alone.

Already Tommy could picture the rest of his day. Another hour of rehearsal and then he'd be free to go home, to his new apartment in LA. Later, dinner and bar hopping with some friends, all with the goal of getting completely shit-faced.

He smiled, moved a little farther from Adam and rubbed his fingers along the edge of his bass. Today was going to be a good day.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy was mid-way through his second drink when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, looked at the caller id, then froze.

No. No, it couldn't be. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The phone buzzed insistently in his hand, as if impatient to be answered.

"Are you gonna get that?" one of his friends asked.

"Yeah," he said through lips that suddenly didn't want to work. His entire body felt the same way, as if it were shutting down. "Yeah, I'll be right back."

He answered the phone, placing it to his ear and heading toward the bathrooms for a measure of quiet.

"Tommy. I need you to come over."

"I'm with friends, Adam. I can't."

"No. You don't say no to me. You never say no to me."

Tommy closed his eyes, pressed the phone closer to his ear. Adam sounded drunk. Drunk and angry. "I thought you were with Kris tonight."

"Just get the fuck over here, Tommy! Jesus fucking Christ! Why is this so hard for you to understand?"

And that, Tommy had no problem hearing, even amid the din of the bar. He staggered against the wall, feeling the urge to drop to the floor. This wasn't supposed to happen tonight. Not tonight.

"Give me your address," he finally said.

He listened as Adam rattled it off, committing it to memory. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Just . . . hurry, ok? Hurry."

Tommy hung up and pushed himself away from the wall. He ran a hand through his hair, over his face, taking a few precious seconds to compose himself. It was bad enough that he'd have to leave his friends before the night even got started; he certainly couldn't let them see him like this, shaky and rattled, as if he'd seen a ghost.

By the time he walked back up to them, he felt a little more in control. "Hey, guys. I'm sorry, but I gotta bail."

The answering chorus of "whys" was almost deafening.

"Work emergency," he said. And when they all stared at him dubiously, the start of protests on their lips, Tommy forced a smile on his face and backed away. "The life of a rockstar, man. Be jealous, bitches."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly forty minutes had passed by the time that Tommy made it to Adam's house.

Pulling into the driveway, Tommy quickly got out of the car, nearly jogging to the front door in his haste. He was about to ring the doorbell, already reaching forward when he stopped, frozen in indecision. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to walk through that door, but he couldn't afford not to. Afraid to walk inside, but afraid not to.

"Fuck," he said, so softly no one but he could have heard. Then once again, louder this time, kicking at the ground in his frustration. "Fuck!"

No choice. There was no choice.

He rang the doorbell.

Adam opened it a split-second later, as if he'd been standing behind it, waiting. The thought was unnerving, draining the last of Tommy's tenuous grip on his control.

"What took you so long?" Adam asked, words slurring together just enough. He was swaying slightly too, just enough. Enough to tell Tommy that he'd been right; Adam was drunk.

"The shit GPS took me the wrong way a couple of times. And there was traffic. I was all the way on the other side of-"

"It doesn't fucking matter. Come on." Adam grabbed him by the wrist, yanking him forward, making him stumble as he sought to keep his balance.

Adam pulled him through the darkened house at a fast pace, fast enough to be disorienting. Tommy thought they passed through a living room, a dining room, walked past a kitchen, but he couldn't be sure. He felt like a kid in a maze, dizzy and confused. But where a child would feel exhilaration, he felt only a tense, lurking fear.

They finally stopped in a bedroom, Adam's by the look of it. This room was lit, although dimly, as if in preparation for a romantic rendezvous. Adam released his grip on Tommy, flinging him several steps back as he did so.

Oh yeah, Tommy thought. He'd been right. Adam was drunk and Adam was pissed. And this, he knew, did not bode well for him. He rubbed at his wrist, already sore and tender, and looked up at Adam through his bangs. "What's wrong, man? You're like on edge or something."

Adam laughed, cold and hard. Desperate. "You don't want to know. You don't even want to know."

"I do. Tell me." And really, Tommy didn't give a flying fuck. He was only trying to talk Adam down, get him into a headspace that didn't promise violence.

"I've been good to you," Adam said, beginning to move forward. "I've been patient. I'm kind of tired of being patient."

Tommy held out a hand, taking a step backward for every one of Adam's. "Come on, Adam. You were all excited about Kris earlier, I mean what-"

He didn't get to finish the sentence. For someone as inebriated as Adam was, he moved faster than Tommy could have ever imagined. One second he was standing a safe distance away, the next, he had a hold of Tommy's shirt and was pushing him backward.

"You fucking want to know?"

Tommy risked a glance behind him, desperate to see where they were headed. It was the bathroom, and for some reason it was brightly lit. Too bright after the relative dimness of the room. Tommy narrowed his eyes and turned away from it, looking up at Adam. "No, it's ok. You don't have to say anything, ok?"

It had been a mistake, to mention Kris. And now he had to try and fix it.

"He fucking brought her!. He brought her. And she was all over him. All. Fucking. Night."

Each word was punctuated by a vicious shake, hard enough to snap Tommy's head back and forth.

"Adam, chill! Fuck, I'm sorry, but I didn't do it, ok? It wasn't me!"

"That fucking bitch!"

At that point, Tommy had had enough. Deal or no deal, he wasn't about to stand still and get thrown around like a ragdoll. He jerked out of Adam's grip and pushed hard against his shoulder, feeling a small measure of satisfaction when he saw Adam stumble.

"I'm not her!" he shouted.

Adam's response was quick, harsh. Lurching forward, he struck Tommy on the side of his face, sending him sprawling those last few feet into the bathroom. Tommy hit the floor hard, feeling the shock of impact run through his entire body. He brought a hand to side of his face, to his mouth, where the stinging pain seemed to be centered. He drew his hand away, saw his fingertips gleaming bright with blood, watched as those same fingertips trembled.

That had been no open-palm slap. Adam had hit him. Punched him.

Tommy looked up, wondering what he would see on Adam's face. He was hoping for regret. Something, anything, to tell him that Adam hadn't meant to hit him like that.

Anything, really, except for what he actually saw.

Anger.

Desire.

"No," he said. It wasn't much as far as protests went. More of a whimper than anything else.

But Adam either didn't hear him or didn't care. He reached down, wrapping long fingers around Tommy's bicep, and pulled him up before slamming his stomach against the bathroom counter and bending him over it.

Tommy caught a brief glimpse of himself in the mirror as he doubled over; the disheveled hair, the makeup smeared across his eyes, the bloody, swollen lip. He looked, he thought, like a victim in a rape scene.

"You're going to make me forget about her," Adam said, growling the words into his ear. "You're going to make me forget about how shitty this night turned out."

Tommy shuddered, tried to push back, push away. And it hit him then, when Adam didn't even budge, when he felt Adam grab his hair and slam the side of his face against the unyielding counter. When he felt Adam holding him still. Holding him down.

He was a victim in a rape scene. It was happening. And he was helpless to stop it.

He struggled harder, thrashing now, even as he felt Adam's hands at the waist of his jeans.

"Adam, no, please . . . not like this. Please."

And yes, he was really begging now, but he didn't care. He'd never felt anything like this, this deep, abiding terror. So much worse than what Adam had done to him in the hotel rooms. So much worse. And he was pleading and babbling and he didn't care.

He managed to lift his head, eyes wild as they sought Adam out in the mirror's reflection. "Not like this. Adam. Please."

And miraculously, Adam stilled, his eyes fixed on Tommy's, gazes locked. And through the haze of panic, Tommy thought he read something other than anger in Adam's eyes. Something other than that callous desire.


	5. Chapter 5

Then Adam backed away, grabbing Tommy by the arm before flinging him away. Tommy's hip took the brunt of the impact as he fell to the floor, sliding several feet along the smooth tile before coming to a stop.

Things grew very still then, the only sound that of his and Adam's breath, harsh and heavy in the air. The excess adrenaline coursing through Tommy's body had him trembling, and he hated himself for it. Hated how it must appear to Adam; him shaking and cowering on the ground like a pathetic animal.

After a moment, he dared to look up, saw that Adam was moving toward him. He watched, tension locking his muscles as Adam lowered himself to the floor.

"Tommy." The voice was soft, all traces of anger gone.

But Tommy didn't dare relax, not yet. Adam was too volatile, too unstable to trust for it to be over. He tried to ease himself away, just a little, just enough to put some space between them, but Adam shifted, positioning his body so that he was straddling Tommy. Then he leaned forward and Tommy had no choice but to turn, leaning on his elbows, arching his back just to keep that precious distance.

"I shouldn't have done that." Adam placed his hand against Tommy's cheek, the one that he'd slammed into the counter just moments ago. Tommy cringed away from the touch, managed just in time to stop himself from turning around and crawling away.

"You think?" he said, spitting out the words in an attempt to sound tough, unaffected.

Adam smiled at him, as if seeing through the facade, as if he could see just how badly rattled Tommy really was. "You're right. Not this way. There are better ways."

And before Tommy could try and make sense of that, Adam was kissing him, his hand sliding behind Tommy's neck, and it felt like that hand was the only thing holding him up.

The kiss was soft, as if Adam was working on being gentle. As if this were an apology for what he'd done.

Tommy accepted it despite the fact that it hurt. His mouth, the side of his face . . . it hurt to be kissed. Hell, his entire body hurt, throbbing in ways that promised continued pain and ugly bruises for days to come.

But it was better than what had come before.

And yes, he was still afraid, but it was manageable now, a low buzz instead of the frenetic shrieking of just a few moments ago.

Adam pulled away, his eyes glazed with a muted lust. It no longer promised danger, but it was still very evidently there.

"So pretty," he whispered before he stood up, holding a hand out to Tommy.

Tommy hesitated before reaching out, and fuck why was he was still shaking? He placed his hand in Adam's, watched as Adam clasped it tight.

"Get up."

"You done using me as a punching bag?"

"Get up and let's see." And there was that smile again. Adam's famous, beautiful smile. "Come on. I've got a better place to finish this."

Tommy let himself be pulled up, pulled out to the bedroom. His brain was basically short-circuiting, protection against the reality of what was happening. He figured it was easier that way - easier to go along if he couldn't really focus and think about what was happening.

And then he saw the bed. And reality came crashing back in full, roaring technicolor.

He stopped, jerking his hand from Adam's grip. "Wait. Just wait a second."

Adam turned to face him. "Don't go blushing virgin on me now."

"I don't know if I can-"

Adam grabbed him again, tugging him forward. "Fuck, Tommy. Just get on the damn bed."

"Just hold on, ok? Two minutes ago you went all Deliverance on me in there, and now you just expect me to . . ." He trailed off, gesturing in the general direction of the bed.

Adam leaned in, reeking of alcohol that's gone stale. "Are you saying that I tried to rape you?" he asked, sounding darkly amused. "Is that what you're saying? Because you can't rape a whore, Tommy."

Tommy's mouth dropped open; the shock of it, the hurt from those few simple words, rendering him speechless.

But then Adam broke into laughter, tugging him forward again. "I was joking, Tommy. It was a joke."

"That's not . . . that's not what I am," Tommy whispered. Except that he was. He'd known it from the moment he'd agreed to the suit's terms. But hearing it said aloud . . . hearing it really fucking hurt.

"Whatever. You know your obligations. You know what you have to do."

Tommy didn't protest when they reached the foot of the bed, nor when Adam pushed him onto it.

"Take off your clothes," Adam said.

"Adam . . . "

Adam pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. "It's like you enjoy pissing me off or something," he said, though he didn't look angry. He looked amused, as if he were humoring a child. "Relax, ok? I know I got a little carried away in there, but I'm not gonna hurt you like that again."

"Not exactly what I'm worried about, dude."

"I just . . . I really need to fuck you right now," Adam said as if he hadn't even heard Tommy. "I really need to forget about that bitch. And you can help me do that. You're the only one that can."

Adam crawled up onto the bed, toward Tommy. Even drunk he moved like a large cat, all grace and power and coiled energy.

Tommy managed to hold himself still while Adam slid up to him. With a hand at his waist, he eased Tommy back. Back until he was lying down, staring up at the ceiling.

It was going to happen. He couldn't say no. He had no choice. It was going to happen.

"What do I do?" Tommy asked, voice hushed and hesitant.

"Take your clothes off and turn over. I'll do the rest."

Tommy did as he was told, body shivering from both the chill in the air and the apprehension.

He'd been reading up on things, scouring the internet for words of wisdom on how sex worked with another man. He'd known this was coming. He'd wanted to be prepared.

But as Adam entered him, centimeter by slow centimeter, he realized that no amount of reading, no amount of anything, could have possibly prepared him for this.

It hurt, a blunt kind of pain that somehow felt both dull and sharp at the same time. Adam was big, he'd known that, but he hadn't expected that it would feel like this, like they were trying to defy laws of physics, round hole, square peg.

His hands grabbed at the sheets, tightening into fists as his body tried to escape the source of the pain.

"Adam, wait . . . need a minute . . ."

"Can't," Adam said, breath harsh along Tommy's ear. One hand landed on Tommy's hip, the other at the top of his shoulder, both of them holding him in place. "So fucking tight. Can't stop, Tommy."

"This isn't going to work, Adam. It hurts."

"Give it a minute. Just give it a minute."

Tommy nodded, head dropping down, and tried to relax, to will his body into opening. Into accommodating. He rode out the pain, told himself he could get through it, that he'd been through worse.

Eventually, once Adam was fully inside, once he'd started rocking into him, setting up a rhythm . . . eventually, the pain did mostly fall away, leaving only the burning stretch of being filled, of movement that was too fast and too deep.

And it felt . . . good wasn't exactly the word. It wasn't bad, but it was nothing like the websites had raved about. He lifted his head, but didn't look back, he didn't dare look back.

"Isn't this supposed to feel good or something?" he asked. He figured he had a right seeing as Adam had, in one single night, kicked the shit out of him, called him a whore, had barely bothered to prepare him and was currently fucking him into the mattress with the biggest damn dick he'd ever seen.

"Yes. But this isn't about you. It's about me. So how about you shut the fuck up?"

So Tommy did, biting back the smart retort just on the tip of his tongue. He closed his eyes and waited it out, telling himself that it would be over soon.

It wasn't.

By the time it was over, his legs and arms were shaking from the strain and he collapsed, boneless and exhausted as Adam finally pulled out of him. He tried to catch his breath, except that he couldn't seem to, tried to swallow except that his mouth was so dry that his throat felt stuck together.

"Mmm . . . come here," Adam said, gathering Tommy in his arms, moving him until they were spooning like two happy, sated lovers.

Tommy let it happen, lying there as long as it took to be able to breathe normally again. Then he tried to bolt.

"I gotta go. I have to drive all the way back and-"

"You're not going anywhere. Shut up and lay here for a minute."

"Come on, man. I gotta go."

Adam kissed the bottom of Tommy's ear, then bit down. Hard. "No. You go when I say you go."

Tommy sighed and settled back. "Can I at least take a shower?"

"Later. In the morning. I'm tired."

"Well, can we move? I'm in the wet spot here."

"So?"

Tommy felt ridiculous even saying it. But Adam had insisted on no condoms, so here he was.

 _Your tests came back clean. And I'm clean. So what's the point? Not gonna get you pregnant._

Ridiculous and stupid and used and exposed.

"So, I'm not a fucking girl, Adam. Shit."

"No," Adam said, nuzzling up to Tommy's ear, draping one heavy leg over Tommy's body. "You're better."


	6. Chapter 6

Tommy woke up alone, the bed empty though the house was not.

He turned to the clock on the nightstand. Ten thirty. He hadn't slept nearly enough. He'd lain awake for what seemed like hours last night, tense and still in Adam's arms before finally falling into fitful sleep.

He was exhausted, but he knew he couldn't lie here any longer. He couldn't be in this house any longer.

He'd already decided that he would shower at his own apartment, but he knew he had to do it soon. It felt imperative, life or death, that he get Adam off of his skin, out of his body.

He stood, feeling his muscles protest the simple movement. It was going to be bad, he knew it, but he still gasped when the bathroom mirror showed him the damage from the night before.

The bruise on his hip, the ones along his pelvic bones from being slammed into the counter, those were bad enough. But his face . . . he skimmed his fingertips over the bruising that seemed to cover the entire right side, dark and ugly and mottled.

He squeezed his eyes shut, turned away from it, hurrying to use the bathroom and get dressed. He refused to think about the other ache in his body and what that represented, the memory that it was linked to.

Except that he was thinking about it every single second. Every single second and he couldn't stop; couldn't stop remembering, couldn't stop the endless loop in his mind from replaying itself.

He found Adam in the kitchen, sitting at the counter, a mug cradled in his hands.

"I made some coffee. You can have some, if you want," Adam said.

"No, thank you." He winced at the sound of his own voice, rough and worn like a smoker's.

Adam nodded, setting the mug down. "Come here."

Tommy narrowed his eyes but did as he was told, walking to Adam, stopping when he stood in front of him. It was a strange perspective, unsettling to be looking down at Adam instead of up.

Adam touched the bruised side of Tommy's face, cupping it gently. Tommy flinched from it anyway, but caught himself, forcing himself to lean back into the touch.

"I shouldn't have done that." It was an echo of what Adam had said last night, and while it maybe showed regret, it certainly wasn't an apology.

"No, you probably shouldn't have."

Adam's only answer was a slight nod, before he dropped his hands to the waist of Tommy's jeans, fingers deftly working at the buttons.

Tommy tensed, taking a step back. "Wait . . . I . . . "

"Sh . . . I'm not going to do anything. I just want to see."

Tommy stilled, taking deep breath after deep breath while Adam unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down past his hips. He touched the bruising there with the same care that he'd touched Tommy's face, lingering over it as if he were committing it to memory.

"You must be in pain," Adam said, pulling away at last.

Tommy shrugged, feigning a nonchalance that he didn't feel. "I've had worse."

"You'll have to ice it," Adam said. "Especially your face. We don't have any appearances for a few days, so that'll work out."

"Yeah, ok," Tommy said, nodding his agreement, because that suggestion really went without saying. Then, in what he hoped was a strong, confident tone, he added, "I'm going home now."

"I'll drive you."

"No. Why?" he asked, confident tone dropping away.

"You're moving like an old man." A sly smile ghosted across Adam's lips. "And it's gonna hurt like a bitch to sit for while. You'll be more comfortable as a passenger."

Tommy's shoulders slumped. So close. So close to getting away from here, away from Adam. "My car . . ." he murmured, a last-ditch effort to argue.

Adam shook his head and stood. "I'll have someone drive it over to you later. Now come on, let's go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy spent most of the ride back to his apartment staring out the passenger window, trying to pretend that Adam wasn't the one sitting next to him, that it wasn't Adam's hand sitting heavy on his knee.

But Adam was quiet at least. He'd turned the radio on as soon as they'd gotten in the car, asked if the station was ok, and hadn't spoken since. Tommy was grateful for the silence, for the reprieve from conversation, especially since Adam had this annoying habit of trying to start one as if everything were all right between them, as if they were friends.

But about fifteen minutes in, Tommy turned his head, enough to be facing the windshield, and asked, "Is that what it's always like?"

"Is what always like?" Adam asked.

Tommy hadn't meant to ask the question out loud. He'd been thinking it, ever since last night, but he hadn't really meant to voice it, and especially not to Adam. Of all people, not to Adam.

But then again, there was no one else he could ask, no one else he could talk to about any of this, least of all the way one felt after being fucked.

He was silent for several seconds, debating whether or not to just let it go. But in the end he felt the tightening of Adam's hand on his leg and when he looked down toward it, he found himself opening his mouth, words tumbling out before he could stop them.

"Sex. Being fucked. Does it always feel like that?"

"What part of being fucked are you asking about?"

Tommy continued to stare at Adam's hand, focusing on the curve of it, the strength in his fingers. Anything to keep from looking into Adam's face. "Sex with girls is . . . you know . . . you walk away feeling amazing. Like you've conquered the fucking world. But last night, it was . . ."

"It was what, baby?"

It was deceptive, hearing Adam sound as if he actually cared. It almost made Tommy turn toward that voice, almost made him turn toward the hint of comfort.

"I don't know," Tommy said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Do you always feel so . . . "

Used.

Claimed.

Taken.

Those were the words. That was what he had felt; still felt. But he couldn't say them out loud. They were stuck in his throat, refusing to go any further.

"Nothing," he said, turning back to the window. "Nothing. Just forget it."

He heard Adam's laughter moments before he felt Adam's hand brush against his face. "Welcome to the world of gay sex, Tommy. Sometimes you're the conqueror, sometimes you're the conquest. Except that with me, you're always going to the be conquest. So yeah, get used to it, that feeling, cause you're gonna be experiencing it for a while."

Tommy huffed out a breath and closed his eyes, fighting the absurd urge to cry. He should have never asked. He'd known it was a mistake. And yet . . . now he knew. Now he knew that it would always feel like last night, because Adam would always make him feel it that way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They didn't speak again, save the occasional remark about which direction to go, until they arrived at Tommy's apartment.

"Home, sweet home," Adam announced.

Tommy waited until Adam had set the car into park before he unclipped his seat belt and placed his hand on the door handle. He was just about to open it when he felt Adam's restraining hand on his arm. Reluctantly, he turned to find that Adam was staring at him. Or, to be more precise, that Adam was staring at the bruising along his face, his face somber and intent as his eyes scanned it.

"Tommy . . ."

"I know," Tommy said, already pulling away. "I'll ice it."

Adam's hand tightened. "Not that." He shook his head. "As soon as I saw you, Tommy, I knew you were the one. You were so pretty. Just so fucking pretty."

Tommy held completely still, breath caught in his lungs, watching as Adam inched forward.

"And you had this toughness about you, I could see it, but there was something fragile there too. I think you try to hide it, and it's not easy to see. But I saw it. And it called to me. It told me that you'd be the perfect one. And when I found out about your situation . . . well, it was almost like it was meant to be. You know? Like the stars were aligning or something."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tommy said. His voice was barely a hushed whisper; all he could manage.

"I'm telling you not to fight it so hard." Adam smiled. "Or fight it a little, cause that's kind of fun. But not so hard. Give into it. Give into me."

Adam was very close now, close enough that Tommy could see the kaleidoscope of blue and gray that were his eyes in minute detail. He continued to look, drawn into their color, even as he asked, "Am I a stand-in for that guy? Kris? Is that what I am?"

Tommy watched as those eyes grew hard, dark. Adam pulled away, enough so that his entire face came swimming back into view.

"Why the fuck would you ask me that question?"

"Because," Tommy said, voice trembling just a little. He resisted the urge to edge himself back, proud of himself for not showing just how afraid he was. "Because maybe I should know why exactly why I'm doing this. Why you're doing this to me. If I've gotta live this, then I want to know why. And don't give me that stars aligning crap."

Adam's face tensed, his whole body tensed, and the grip on Tommy's arm reached vice-like levels. Tommy prepared himself for the slap or punch or whatever was coming next.

Except that nothing happened. After several seconds, Adam relaxed and his grip loosened completely. "Would it make it easier for you if I said yes? Would it change anything at all?"

And there it was again, the absurd feeling that he was going to cry. "I don't know."

Adam gave him a look that was nearly pitying. "Go home, Tommy. Lay low for a few days. I'll call you when I need you."

Tommy nodded and stepped out of the car, watching it speed away seconds later. He stood there for a long time, hand covering his face, until he finally made his way inside.


	7. Chapter 7

_Jekyll_

 _Hyde_

 _Jekyll_

 _Hyde_

That's how Tommy had come to label Adam's shifting moods. One moment he'd be charming and considerate, the next, cold and contemptuous.

But as far as Tommy could tell, Adam saved Mr. Hyde especially for him.

Hyde had come out two days ago, after a photographer at a shoot had pissed Adam off. Tommy had felt the repercussions of that anger that night, could still feel them now. They were the reason that he was walking with such care, movements slow and stiff. They were also the reason that he was wearing long sleeves, long enough to nearly cover his hands. Tommy knew that the sleeves were doing their job, that they made it impossible for anyone to see the bruising that encircled his wrists, and yet he couldn't help but tug them down every so often. This was an industry party; the rich, famous and important were everywhere and the last thing he needed was for the rich, famous and important to get an eyeful of the damage that Adam had inflicted.

"Hey, pretty boy. Penny for your thoughts."

Tommy turned, nearly jumping in the air when he heard the familiar voice behind him, felt the now familiar hands at his waist.

"Shit, Adam, you scared me."

"Why so jumpy?"

"I thought you were getting a drink."

Adam held up a glass containing a pink concoction. "I did. And now I'm back."

Tommy watched him, noticing the loopy grin and bleary eyes. It meant that Adam was at least tipsy, edging into drunk. Great, Tommy thought, a feeling of dread already forming in his stomach. This didn't bode well for him. A drunk Adam never did.

"Listen, you mind if I go?" he asked. He didn't think Adam would allow him to go, but he at least wanted to try. "This isn't really my scene."

Adam's smile wavered. "What? Party's just getting good. No, you can't leave."

"I don't even know anybody here," Tommy protested. "I feel like an idiot just standing here."

"Kris just got here, so no, you're not going anywhere."

"What does that have to do with anything?" But the answer came to Tommy before Adam could speak. He looked at Adam, and maybe he was a little drunk himself, otherwise how else to explain what he said next. "Oh, you're kidding. What, are you trying to make him jealous? That's so fricking sad, man. Like he even cares."

It was almost instantaneous, the transformation. Jekyll to Hyde.

Tommy had just enough time to regret opening his mouth before Adam grabbed his arm and began pulling him from the room.

He could almost feel the looks as they walked past everyone and headed toward the balcony. He kept his head down, embarrassed, ashamed of what this must look like

There were few people on the balcony, the night air too cold for the revealing clothing the beautiful people wore, but it wasn't empty.

Adam steered them to a dark-lit corner, pushing Tommy into it before stepping in front of him, his larger body essentially shielding them from any prying eyes.

"What the fuck was that?" Adam's voice was low and menacing, little more than a snarl, but to Tommy it sounded as if he were shouting at the top of his lungs.

"It wasn't-"

"Explain to me why you would insult me, Tommy."

"I wasn't, Adam. I wasn't, I swear."

"Don't fucking lie to me. You said, you own it." And then Adam shook his head, breathing out in exasperation. "You know, I can't figure out if you're just a masochist or if you're really this fucking stupid."

"Hey! I'm not stupid, all right?" Tommy said, voice rising along with his own anger. "It's an opinion. What, I'm not allowed to have any? You just want some blow-up toy that can't think for itself?"

Suddenly, Adam surged forward, one hand grasping the back of Tommy's neck, using it to pull him closer. Tommy couldn't move, could barely breathe, his body trapped between Adam and the wall behind him.

"What I want is for you to stop pissing me off. You would think you'd be getting the hang of it by now, especially considering how much is at stake here."

It was like a punch to the gut, that not-so-veiled threat. It made Tommy tremble, his body suddenly feeling the cold, chilling him through skin and bone.

"Wait, Adam, come on . . . I didn't mean-"

"Are you regretting your little decision to speak your mind?"

"I'm sorry, ok? I'm sorry. Maybe I am stupid. Maybe I just don't know when to shut up."

"Like now," Adam said, moving even closer, cutting Tommy off from the world altogether. "Shut up now."

"Ok," Tommy said quickly. Anything to appease, to try and undo his mistake. "Shutting up. Ok?"

The darkness seemed to cloak Adam, making it hard to read him, to try and guess what he might be thinking or feeling. Tommy could only hope that he'd done enough, said enough to make things right again.

He wasn't expecting the kiss. But then again, it wasn't a true kiss. It was Adam pressing their lips together, using his teeth as weapons, tearing into him until blood was drawn.

Adam finally pulled away, leaving Tommy breathless, shivering as he tried to hold himself up against the wall. His mouth hurt like hell, but he didn't dare touch it, didn't dare do anything but stare up at Adam.

"We'll talk about this some more later tonight," Adam said. He sounded mild and relaxed now, as if the anger had been expelled. And yet, Tommy knew better. "Stay until I leave, ok? Then head over to my place."

"Yeah, ok." Tommy winced at the sound of his voice. But then again, he never sounded right anymore; his voice, along with everything else, so twisted and fucked up.

"Better, Tommy," Adam said, stepping away. He sounded pleased. "Better."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy sat on the couch at the far end of the room, nursing his drink, trying to achieve the right level of drunkenness - sober enough that he'd be able to drive, drunk enough that to dull sensation against whatever Adam had planned for him later.

Adam had left him to his own devices nearly an hour ago, and he'd quickly slunk back to this quiet, deserted corner. He'd fended off a few friendly people earlier with some surly looks and curt answers, and now he was alone. Which was exactly what he needed. He needed time think about what he'd said and why. He needed time to try and come to terms with the fact that he was a dead man, that there was no possible way Adam would let this go.

He straightened when he felt the couch dip beside him, the signal that someone else was next to him. His heart beat a little faster as he turned, so sure that it was Adam.

Except that it wasn't. It was the one person he'd least expected to see sitting next to him.

"Hey. You're Tommy, right?"

Tommy nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm Kris. Kris Allen."

Tommy stared down at the proferred hand a moment before rousing himself to shake it. "Yeah, I know who you are."

Kris smiled, all warm, welcoming and easy as he pulled his hand back. "I've heard a lot about you."

Tommy tried to match the smile, but found he couldn't. It was as if he were trying to use muscles that had long since atrophied. "Good stuff, I hope," he said, because that felt like the next line in the script.

"All good," Kris said, turning to survey the room. "You having a good time?"

Tommy looked down at his drink before glancing up through his bangs. They were good camouflage, he'd found. They came in handy at times like this - when he felt uncomfortable and mostly just wanted to disappear.

"Not really," he said. "Not my scene, you know?"

"Yeah, I hear you. To be honest, I kind of hate these things myself. I'd rather be home watching the game on tv, but it's expected that I be here, so . . . here I am."

Tommy nodded, gripping his beer bottle in his hands and silently wishing that Kris Allen would hurry up and go the fuck away. Not that there was anything wrong with Kris Allen. In fact it was the opposite. In the three minutes since he'd sat down, Tommy could already tell that Kris was a good guy. That he was cool and easy to get along with. That maybe, in some alternate universe where Adam wasn't a controlling asshole who'd fucked up his life, that he and Kris could be friends.

But in this universe, sitting next to Kris Allen made Tommy feel like a weak, wounded freak. And he was pretty sure that if Kris sat next to him much longer that he was going to see it; see the pathetic, ugly inside of him.

"Anyway," Kris said, "that's not why I came over here. I was hoping to talk to you for a second."

"You've _been_ talking," Tommy said, eyes still obscured by his hair.

Kris nodded, and if he caught the rudeness in the remark, he didn't show it. Then he leaned over, eyes scanning the room briefly before returning to Tommy. He'd grown very serious, that easy smile now absent from his face. "I wanted to ask you something. And if it's none of my business, then tell me and I'll back off."

Oh, shit, Tommy thought, taking a long pull from the bottle. For fortitude, maybe? He was pretty sure that he wasn't going to like where this was heading, but he nodded anyway, trying not to overreact.

"Ok."

"Is there something going on between you and Adam?"

Tommy choked a little, then panicked. A lot.

His brain felt as if it were short-circuiting, abandoning him when he needed it to get into high gear. He shook his head, a little too fast, a little too desperately.

"Why would you ask-"

Kris cut him off. "I've heard things. And tonight. The way he was touching you."

 _Heard things?_

"No, man. You got it wrong," Tommy said. Did he sound calmer now? He thought he did. Could he make it sound as if the entire idea were ridiculous? "We work together. That stuff is fanservice, that's all."

"Yeah, except that there are no fans here, Tommy."

 _Oh shit. Oh shit_

"No, but-"

"And I don't just mean anything romantic," Kris said, interrupting again.

Tommy just stared at him, confused. Maybe the alcohol was partly to blame, maybe not, but he was suddenly having a hard time keeping track of where the conversation was headed.

"Look," Kris said, explaining. "I saw Adam pull you out of the room looking like he was going to kill somebody. And then you come back in with your lip all messed up . . ."

Tommy stood. Not a conscious decision; more like instinct to get away. He really didn't like where this conversation was going. But Kris had given him an out earlier. At the very beginning, he'd given him an out. He just had to take it.

"You know what, you're right. This is none of your business," he said as forcefully as he could.

And then he made to walk away. Would have, but Kris reached out and grabbed his wrist before he could even take a step. Tommy winced, sucking in a breath at the pain that ignited from the simple touch. And maybe he could have stopped what happened next, but he didn't. He just stood there, watching, a spectator to his own life as Kris turned his arm over and pulled up the sleeve to expose his wrist.

And there they were, exposed and open, the marks from the rope that Adam had used on him.

"It's not . . . it's not what you think," Tommy stuttered.

Kris was holding onto his hand now, eyes fixed on the marked skin. "Did Adam . . ."

"No," Tommy said, snatching his hand back, pulling it in close to his body as he tugged the sleeve back down. "I told you, it's not what you think."

"You can talk to me about it, you know. It would be between you and me. No one else."

Kris' eyes were huge; sad. Tommy wasn't sure what he saw in them. Pity maybe. Concern? Whatever it was, it felt comforting, to know that somebody cared. It was almost enough to make him sit down, open his mouth and spill out everything. Just the thought of it was so tempting that it made him ache.

But that was nothing but the stupidest kind of wishful thinking. He'd signed on the dotted line, he'd made the deal and he knew the consequences.

This was his and his alone.

His and Adam's.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but . . . you don't know what the fuck you're talking about and I really don't have time to listen to this. I'm outta here."

Once again, he made to walk away, once again he was stopped by Kris.

"Wait, just wait a second, ok?" Kris had one hand on Tommy's arm, gentle this time, while the other hand reached into the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a small piece of paper and placed it into Tommy's hand.

"My phone number and my address," he said. "Just in case you ever want to talk. About anything."

Kris gave Tommy's arm a small squeeze, giving him a reassuring smile before turning and walking away.

Tommy watched him go, watched as Kris disappeared into the crowd, lost to him. Several more seconds passed before he looked at the paper in his hands, eyes briefly scanning the writing.

Should he keep it or toss it? It wasn't like he could ever use it. He wouldn't dare - Adam and Kris were too close. Even if Kris did seem sympathetic, his loyalties were sure to lie with Adam.

And yet . . . there was something comforting in knowing that he had it. That it was available if he did need it. He folded the piece of paper, about to slip it into his pocket when he noticed that there was some writing on the other side as well.

He opened it back up and turned it over, eyes widening as he read the two short sentences that Kris had written.

 _There are things about Adam that you don't know. Find me when you're ready._


	8. Chapter 8

Adam's room.

Adam's bed.

Tommy lay on it, staring up at the ceiling and wishing that he couldn't see it. But Adam had insisted that all the lights stay on tonight and that meant that he could see the ceiling. It meant that he could see everything.

"Are you scared, Tommy? Are you scared of me?"

Adam was currently crawling up the bed toward him, more panther than man. Tommy kept his eyes on the ceiling even as he felt Adam's skin gliding against his own. He shivered, though it wasn't from the cold.

"I don't know," he answered. It was a lie, of course. He was terrified.

"Well, you should be. Do you know why you should be?"

Tommy gazed down, looking right into Adam's eyes. "Because I pissed you off. Because I insulted you and now you're pissed."

"No." Adam shook his head, exaggerating the motion. "Try again."

Tommy knew that this was a game, but he wasn't sure how to play it. He shook his head, helpless. "I don't know. There wasn't anything else. I don't know."

"Try again," Adam said, pulling Tommy's head back with one quick, vicious tug at his hair. Tommy gasped, more from the surprise than the pain of it. He was staring up at the ceiling again, frozen in place by Adam's strong hold.

"I don't know," Tommy said, giving his head only the most minute shake. "I fucked up, that's all I know."

"Ok, fine, I'll help you. This time," Adam said. "You should be frightened because you were a bad boy. Do you understand? You were a bad boy."

And with those words, Adam tightened his grip even more. Now it was painful, this angle, painful and awkward. Tommy arched his back to try and ease the ache already radiating from his neck.

"I was, Adam. I'm sorry, ok? I'm really sorry."

"Well, that's a start. But it's not good enough. Do you know what happens to bad boys, Tommy?"

Tommy felt the start of tears prickling at his eyes. "No," Tommy said, gasping because, fuck, it was hard to breathe. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

There must have been something in his voice, some of the desperation that Tommy was feeling must have bled through, because suddenly the hand at his hair was gone, and Adam was tilting his chin down so that their eyes could meet.

"Sh...stay with me, Tommy. Scared is one thing. Hysterical is another. Ok?"

"Ok." Tommy nodded, trying to will himself to calm down. "Ok."

"Good," Adam said, and there it was, that famous Chesire cat grin. "Now turn over."

Tommy did, hesitating only the slightest bit. He could feel his heart pounding against the mattress; too fast, too loud.

"Bad boys get punished. That's what happens to them. That's what happens to you."

Tommy could feel Adam leaning down over him, could feel Adam's hot breath against the nape of his neck. "You're lucky I had a chance to cool off, otherwise you'd be in a world of hurt right now," Adam told him. "So, thank me. Thank me for being so nice to you."

Nice? This was nice? Tommy felt like his heart was going to explode from apprehension, was only a few precious seconds away from breaking down into tears . . . and this was Adam being nice?

"Thank you," Tommy managed to whisper.

"Good." Adam's hand smoothed down the curve of Tommy's spine, settling across Tommy's ass. "Good. You can thank me again when it's over, too. Then I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk right for a week. And all because of your worthless, mindless opinion."

Tommy shivered beneath Adam, every word causing the tremors racking his body to worsen. His mind jumped to Kris' note, now hidden in his car's glove box, and he wondered what Kris would think if he saw this. He could almost picture the disgust on Kris' face.

When the first slap came, Tommy's body jerked as if he'd been hit by electricity. He'd played with erotic spankings before but they'd never been anything like this. That had fucking hurt. Leave it to Adam to turn yet another good thing into something he would never touch.

By the fifth one, he was squirming on the bed, gasping.

By the fifteenth, he was trying to get away, begging Adam to stop.

By the time it was over, he was sobbing, past words or coherent thought.

He barely noticed when Adam turned him over, coming aware again only when Adam pushed inside of him.

"Thank me," Adam said, voice low.

They'd never done it like this before, facing each other. It was almost too close, too intimate. Tommy turned his head to the side, closing his eyes. He was still crying, though less now. "Thank you."

Adam's pace was slow, almost gentle, despite his earlier threat. He placed a small kiss against Tommy's cheek, then a longer one against his throat, using teeth to turn it into a bite.

"That's my good boy."


	9. Chapter 9

In retrospect, Tommy should have known it was coming. He'd auditioned to be a bass player and had ended up as someone that 20/20 would do a segment on.

He was slowly, steadily, losing control of his life.

It was only natural to try and snatch it back. If only for a night.

It started with Tommy calling his old friends together and meeting them at one of their favorite bars.

They were having fun, but after awhile decided to move the party somewhere a little more exciting.

At the second bar, Tommy got them all kicked out for starting a fight with a guy who accidentally bumped into him.

At the third bar, he met Audra. Audra was young, blonde, pretty and had absolutely no idea who Tommy was but was into him anyway.

It wasn't long before Tommy was bidding his friends goodnight and following her home.

"My roommate's gone for the night. We have the place all to ourselves," she said, giggling as she led him through her small apartment.

"Awesome." And that's exactly how he felt - awesome. Taking on that guy back at the bar and kicking his ass and now this . . . a night with a pretty girl who was practically salivating for him. It made him feel like he was in control, like he was a man again. Or at the very least . . . the man he used to be.

He followed Audra into her bedroom, falling with her on top of the bed. They were both drunk and horny as rabbits so it was no surprise that foreplay was nearly ignored.

They barely managed to toss the last of their clothes to the ground when Tommy grabbed a hold of her arm and flipped her onto her stomach.

Sensing his intent, Audra turned to look behind her. "Wait, Tommy. Condom."

"Don't need it."

It had been so long. Tommy felt as if his body were on fire, desperate and aching and raw. He still felt some of the energy from the earlier fight, as if that raging anger hadn't really disappeared, but had merely stayed hidden.

"Yeah, we do. I'm always careful," she said, insisting as she tried to twist out from under him.

But Tommy didn't want to wait. He couldn't. And he couldn't understand why she didn't see that.

He held her arm and turned back over, body sprawled over hers, one hand already guiding himself in. Or trying to, it was hard to do when she wouldn't stop moving.

"Hold on a second . . . I can't get pregnant, Tommy."

"Not gonna." He kept moving, fueled by something that he didn't understand, almost as if he were a man possessed.

"Tommy, stop."

He didn't even fully realize what he was trying to do until he heard her shriek and felt her trying to jump away.

"Tommy, stop! Not there, Tommy, stop!"

That stalled him for a moment and he was reminded of Adam, of how Adam always pushed into his body without any regard to him. About how it still hurt, after all this time, it still hurt when Adam fucked him.

He loosened his hold a little. He wasn't going to hurt her. He hadn't even meant to do that. He didn't want to take her like Adam took him, he'd just wanted to . . . to . . .

Tommy shook his head. He didn't know. He didn't even know what he'd been trying to do.

"Get the fuck off me!" Audra said, shrieking now, bucking back against him.

"Audra, wait, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to . . ."

His words came to a slow halt as realization hit him. He was holding her down. She'd been struggling and he'd been holding her down and he hadn't even fully known. Horrified, he let go, pushing himself backward and away.

She jumped up from the bed, grabbing a pillow and holding it in front of her like some sort of shield. "What the fuck is wrong with you!"

"Audra . . . "

"Get out. Get out of here right the fuck now."

He reached out his arm toward her, uncurling his legs to stand. "Just let me explain . . ."

"I have neighbors. I'll scream. If you don't get out right now, I'll scream. They're nosy as fuck, I swear to God."

He scrambled off the bed, making sure that he moved away from her, not closer. "Ok. I'm out of here." He picked up his underwear and pants, putting them on as quickly as he could. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She looked calmer now, but still wary, the pillow still clutched tightly in front of her. "Just leave, ok?"

He did, muttering out more apologies as he walked out the door.

He went to his car, slammed the door shut, and proceeded to pound his fist into the steering wheel over and over and over until his knuckles began to split. "Fuck!" he shouted, relishing how the word burned against his throat. "Fuck!"

He had almost . . . he could barely stand to think it, but the truth of it had been there in her eyes. He had almost hurt that girl. He had almost hurt her and it hadn't felt wrong. He hadn't wanted to stop and it hadn't felt wrong.

It was several minutes later before the shaking had subsided enough for him to start the car and drive away.

He had choices, he knew.

He could go home. Go home and curl into bed and try really hard not to think about the fact that his life was a fucking nightmare.

He could call Kris. Call Kris and get some answers. Talk, unburden himself.

Or he could go to Adam's.

Adam's was the last place he should go, Tommy knew that. He was a mess right now, keyed up and half-crazy. It would be a mistake.

And yet, even as he drove the car through the LA streets, he knew that Adam's house was exactly where he was headed.


	10. Chapter 10

Tommy pounded the side of his fist against the door, kicking at it with his foot.

There had been a 50/50 chance that Adam wasn't going to be home, and he'd been trying to prepare for himself for that possibility. But he'd lucked out - the lights inside the house were on.

Adam was home.

Several more seconds passed before the door finally opened.

"You're early," Adam said, smiling. The smile dropped away as Adam recognized him.

"Tommy?"

Adam was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, his hair soft and natural. Good, Tommy thought. That meant he hadn't gone anywhere and wouldn't be anytime soon.

Tommy waited until Adam had closed the door behind him and then he placed his hands on Adam's chest and shoved.

"You shit! You fucking asshole!"

Adam stumbled, his back colliding with the wall behind him.

"You did this to me!" Tommy shouted, reaching out to push Adam again, harder, against the unyielding wall. "You fucking shit, you did this to me!"

Adam stared at him, mouth hanging open, too stunned to move. "Tommy, what's going on?"

"You fucked up my life! You ruined my life!" Tommy continued to strike at Adam's chest, pounding against it with his closed fists. He knew he was out of control, but it no longer mattered. All the shame, all the fear, all the humiliation of the past few months had culminated in this very moment and he knew that he wouldn't be able to stop it even if he tried.

Adam somehow caught Tommy's flailing wrists and held them close to his own chest, squeezing them tight as a warning. "Calm down and talk to me. Just talk to me."

But Tommy was too far gone to listen. He twisted out of Adam's grip, shouting up into his face, so raw that his throat burned from it. "I hate you! I fucking hate you!"

Adam caught him before he could take a step back, just as his hands were balling into fists.

"Do you really want to do this, Tommy?" Adam's voice was different now, charged with the promise of darkness.

Did he want to do this? No, he didn't want to; he needed to. He felt as if he were drowning from the poison in his system, as if his lungs were filling with it and he couldn't breathe. He needed to purge himself of it before it consumed him completely.

Tommy once more twisted out of Adam's grip, but too easily. Even as he did it, even possessed by his rage, he knew that it was too easy.

Still, he swung, and his fist caught Adam in the face. The crack of it against Adam's jaw felt like justice and vindication. For the first time since he'd met Adam, Tommy felt really fucking good.

Adam clutched his jaw, head turned to the side. The briefest of seconds passed in complete silence as both men stood frozen; warriors on a battlefield.

And then Adam shifted, head coming up to look at Tommy. He was smiling. His mouth was bloody, teeth stained red and yet he was smiling.

Tommy took a step back, suddenly unsure, his anger wavering.

"Now," Adam said, "it's my turn."


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Adam threw himself at Tommy, tackling him, and never in a million years would he have thought that Adam could actually tackle somebody, and yet he did.

Tommy hit the floor, feeling the impact run through his entire body, the air leaving his lungs in a rush.

"Is this what you wanted? Is it?" Adam punctuated the questions by grabbing hold of Tommy's throat and slamming his head back against the floor with jarring force.

"Fuck you!" Tommy screamed.

It felt good to fight. For once, to not have to lie still and take it. Tommy bucked up against Adam, lashing out with his fists, relishing it when Adam did the same.

After all this time, being made to feel so small and insignificant, Tommy finally felt like a person again; like a man.

He took a couple of hits to the face, a couple more to his midsection, and yet Tommy still felt alive. Free.

A solid hit to Adam's face and Tommy was kicking his way out from underneath him, jumping up to stand. Adam stood too, launching himself at Tommy, grabbing him and sending them both spinning.

It was a strange kind of dance, turning round and round, each struggling to be stronger than the other.

And then Adam lunged, pushing Tommy back so that Tommy's back collided with the wall behind him, his head crashing into the mirror that hung there.

It hurt like a motherfucking bitch and as Tommy dropped to his knees, closing his eyes against the pain, he saw the proverbial stars, spinning and dancing behind his eyelids.

He was sure he was going to vomit, the pain was so piercing and all-encompassing. And,what the fuck, now he felt it down his back and to his legs. It was spreading, taking him over.

He was barely aware that he was on all fours, head hung low, hair obscuring his face.

And then he heard Adam's voice, so close, too close. "See what you made me do? Do you see what you did?"

Adam's voice, wild and breathless, and then Adam's hand, stroking along his hair, using it to pull his head back.

Tommy groaned, pain re-igniting. "Stop," he croaked, voice useless.

"Your own fault, Tommy. Your own fault."

Adam loosened his grip on Tommy's hair, enough for Tommy to crawl away. Or to try to. Except that he didn't make it very far. There was a serious lack of communication between his brain and his limbs, limbs that currently felt like they were made of jelly.

And then Adam's hands were at his belt, unlooping it, opening up his jeans, fingers far too deft and too fast.

"Stop it, you sick fuck." Tommy tried to turn his head, only to feel Adam pushing it down against the carpet. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Shut up. Just shut up, Tommy."

"Adam, stop."

"So fucking stupid. So fucking pretty, but so fucking stupid."

Tommy tried again to crawl away, even knowing that there was no point. He had lost. He had lost the moment he had hit the mirror, maybe before. Maybe the second he'd walked in the door.

He felt the weight of Adam's body, so heavy against his own, the bite of Adam's fingernails against his wrists as he was held down. Most of all, the blunt push of Adam's dick, slick with god knew what, searing into him.

"Adam, please . . . just . . . I can't . . . "

"Sh . . . Tommy . . . sh . . ."

And then, the feel of Adam's hand as it petted him. One hand held him down while the other petted at his hair. Two extremes, yet both so very Adam.

How could Adam want him like this? He was beat to shit, they both were. Tommy went still, lowered his head, cheek against the carpet, and rode it out. He didn't understand it, couldn't understand it, but he had to get through it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy knew what came next, could practically sketch it out. Adam always dropped into a near-stupor after he came, becoming sleepy and lazy. Tonight was no different.

Tommy waited until that moment, until Adam slumped down on the floor next to him, breathing still harsh and heavy. And then he ran.

He tugged up his jeans as he stood, enough so that he could move, his hand already grabbing at his keys. He ignored the aches, the throbbing in his skull, the sick sway of the room around him.

He could hear Adam moving behind him, calling out his name, but it only made him move faster. As he pushed out through the door, night air like a balm against his skin, it struck him that he was living a horror movie. The fear of getting caught by the monster behind him, the terror at the thought of getting dragged back into that house . . .

Tommy hit the side of his car at top speed, hands fumbling with the door handle as a mad giggle escaped him.

Because, yes, there was the monster now. Running behind him, long legs bringing him closer and closer.

"Get back here, Tommy!"

Tommy slid into the seat, jamming the key into the ignition and starting the car. He'd already slid it into reverse when Adam came up to the driver's side. Adam pounded his hands against the glass, so hard that for a heart-stopping moment Tommy was afraid that it would shatter.

"Tommy, get out of the car!"

"Fuck you! You are never touching me again, you fucking freak!"

And with that, Tommy hit the accelerator, peeling out of the driveway, leaving Adam to stand there alone.

He drove for a few minutes; crazy, haphazardous. Anything to get away, just to get away. He only stopped when he felt safe, when he knew for certain that Adam could not have followed him. Then he opened the car door, leaned his head out and proceeded to vomit all over the pavement.

It lasted several minutes, his body purging everything in his stomach. Over and over until he was dry-heaving only. He took in deep, shaky breaths until even those stopped, and then he sat back up, shutting the door and locking it.

"Now what?" he said out loud, asking the question to the wreck in the mirror.

He couldn't go home; he could hide some bruises from his roommate, but he couldn't hide this.

He couldn't go to a hospital. They'd run tests, they'd see things. They'd call the police, thinking it was rape. And maybe it had been, Tommy didn't even know anymore.

A motel? Maybe. Just lie low for a couple of days, let his body heal, figure out his next move . . .

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed the best idea. He knew a place, not far from his apartment, he could go there right now.

It seemed like a good idea, until he remembered Kris. Kris' offer, his concern. Maybe, he thought, maybe Kris was a better idea.


	12. Chapter 12

Tommy wrapped his arms around his midsection, waiting for Kris to answer the door. He felt sick and every part of his body hurt. His head was the worst though, both throbbing and stinging. He'd touched it earlier, in the car, and his hand had come away bloody.

At least he'd stopped crying. That had to count for something.

The door opened a moment later, revealing a very tired, confused-looking Kris Allen.

"Tommy?"

Tommy nodded.

"What are you doing here?"

Tommy stared down at the ground, feeling awkward and small. "I thought . . . you said we could talk . . ."

And suddenly this didn't seem like a very good idea at all. Kris was just standing there, staring at him as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Tommy mumbled, already backing away. "I should have called. I'm sorry."

"No, wait." Kris stepped through the door, hand reaching out for Tommy. "Shit, look at your face. Come in, ok? You just surprised me, that's all. Come in."

And Tommy, after a moment's hesitation, did just that.

Tommy looked around as he was led inside. It was nice, cozier than Adam's house. Quiet.

"Is your wife gonna get pissed? Me coming over so late?" he asked.

Kris led them over to a sofa, tugging Tommy down so that they were both sitting.

"Katy and I are separated. She moved out a couple of weeks ago," Kris said in an off-handed way. He was busy staring at Tommy, looking him up and down.

"Oh. I didn't know. I'm sorry."

Kris' eyes snapped up to Tommy's face. "Don't be. It was a long time coming." Then, "Tommy, did Adam do this to you?"

Tommy looked down at his hands, at the floor, anywhere but Kris Allen's face. This was harder than he'd thought, talking about this. "Yeah, but it was my fault. I was pissed when I went over there. I know how he is, and I still did it and now everything's fucked."

"Is Adam hurt?"

The question surprised him and he blinked, meeting Kris' eyes as he thought it through. "I don't think so," he said. "I hit him a couple times, but not anything too bad. He's a better fighter than I am. Who would've thought, huh?" Tommy laughed, and it sounded hysterical, unhinged.

Kris' gaze shifted then, the frown etched onto his face deepening. Tommy followed that gaze, saw it land on his jeans. They were still undone, he hadn't thought to fix them. Tommy blushed, hands going to button them back up. He stilled at the sound of Kris' voice, somber and deep. "Did Adam do anything else? Did he force you . . . ?"

Tommy wrapped his arms around his middle, hunching over. His eyes felt hot, as if he were only seconds away from crying again. He shook his head, ignoring the pain that the simple action brought. "He held me down. I tried to get away, but he held me down."

"Did he rape you? Do you think he raped you?"

"No!" Tommy said, head shooting up. "No. I don't know. I don't know."

"Ok, listen to me, Tommy." Kris placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Do you want to call the police? Do you want to go to a hospital?"

"No. God, no. They wouldn't understand. It was my fault. I knew. It was my fault."

Kris sighed and nodded, pulling away to give Tommy some space. "Ok, here's what we're going to do. You're going to take a bath, you're going to get clean. And then we're going to sit down and you're going to tell me everything, ok? You can stay here tonight. I've got some stuff that'll help with the pain. It'll help you sleep."

Tommy nodded. At this point, he would have agreed to anything, too shell-shocked to think on his own. But this . . . this sounded good. Being clean sounded good. Meds sounded good. Even talking to Kris sounded good; letting the secret out at last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hot bath felt good, the codeine felt better.

Now Tommy sat in bed in Kris' guest room, hunching over while Kris carefully pulled small slivers of glass from his scalp with a pair of tweezers.

It didn't really hurt, not anymore, the codeine had seen to that, just a slight tugging sensation that had Tommy gripping the sheets tight in his hands.

"You're lucky," Kris said from behind him. "No concussion and you won't need stitches."

"How do you know how to do this stuff?"

"I learned it when I went overseas. For missions."

"You used to do that?"

"Used to."

Tommy could feel Kris pulling back, could hear the sound of shuffling, things being moved around.

"I'm going put some gauze over it, ok? It's going to be tender for a few days, but you'll be ok."

Tommy nodded, holding still as he felt Kris' nimble fingers place the gauze over the wound and secure it. When he was done, Kris scooted out from behind Tommy, moving so that they could face each other.

"Lie down, you need to take it easy."

Tommy did, lying on his side, pulling the covers over his body. He felt warm and safe and cared for. And lucky. So lucky that he had come here instead of the motel. "Thank you, Kris," he said, aware that the words didn't come close to expressing how he felt.

"You're welcome. Do you want to tell me what happened with you and Adam? Do you think you can?"

Tommy shifted his gaze so he wouldn't have to look Kris in the eyes. Then he told him everything. From the first meeting with the suit until tonight. He glossed over most of it; Kris didn't need to hear the dirty details, but he didn't spare the high points.

He was exhausted by the time he finished, his voice dropping down into a near-whisper. He flicked his eyes to Kris' face, afraid of what he would see there.

But he only saw concern and maybe something that bordered on sadness, in Kris' eyes.

"I had no idea," Kris said. "I thought . . . all this time I thought you guys were dating. I thought maybe Adam was getting a little rough. Believe me, Tommy, if I had known . . ."

"S'ok. No one knew." Tommy's eyes slipped closed for a moment before he managed to open them again. It was getting harder to stay awake now, the codeine really kicking into high gear.

"You should rest, you're completely exhausted," Kris said. He ran his hand over Tommy's hair, brushing it back from his face. "We can talk about what we're going to do in the morning." He stood, taking a step away from the bed.

So hard, so hard to stay awake. But Tommy couldn't fall asleep, not yet. "But, Adam . . ."

"We'll talk about how to deal with him tomorrow. We'll fix it, Tommy. I promise."

"No," Tommy said, voice stronger this time. He pushed up on his elbow and forced the pull of sleep away. "No. You said you had something to tell me about Adam. That's why I'm here. That's why I came."

Kris tilted his head to the side, looking puzzled. "I did?"

"In the note. You gave me that note."

"Oh, that." Kris smiled. "We'll talk about that in the morning. I'll explain everything in the morning."

And with that, Kris left, turning off the light and leaving Tommy in total darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

Tommy slept, though not well. He woke up several times during the night, disoriented, confused, afraid, only to drop back off to sleep as soon as he remembered. He was safe, he would tell himself right before his eyes slipped back closed and his body relaxed.

He woke up for good around noon. He sat up in bed, noting with no surprise that he felt like crap. His head was tender, and he had a splitting headache that seemed to come from the deepest parts of his brain. His body ached in places he didn't even know existed. But the worst pain was the one deep inside his body. Adam had done a number on him, forcing himself in like he had. Tommy was sure he was torn, maybe even bleeding.

Last night, Kris had offered to check, but Tommy had flat-out refused, knowing that that was more humiliation than he was prepared to handle.

He stood, unsteady, still groggy from the pills and walked to the bathroom across the hall. He barely glanced at his reflection as he did his business, taking care not to aggravate his injuries. He found a spare toothbrush, still in its wrapping, and some toothpaste and brushed his teeth before washing his face. Then, dressing carefully, he stepped out into the hall to look for Kris.

The smell of fresh, brewing coffee permeated the house and he made his way toward what he imagined to be its source; the kitchen. As he drew nearer, he could hear the sound of voices, what sounded like two people, murmuring softly to each other.

So, Kris had company. Tommy sucked in a deep breath and rounded the corner of the hall, the kitchen right in front of him. He told himself that he would peek, see who it was and then hide back in the room, wait there until they were gone.

He took another step, then another, inching forward, curiosity urging him on.

And then he froze, breath trapped in his lungs, muscles locked in place. Because sitting at the kitchen table, looking casual and comfortable and thick as fucking thieves, were Kris and Adam.

And they were both turned toward him, looking at him as if they'd been expecting him.

It took everything Tommy had to speak, everything to force words from his lips. "What is he doing here?"

Kris stood, and it was only then that Tommy noticed that he and Adam had been holding hands. "I called him. After you fell asleep."

"No." Tommy hugged his arms to his body, doubling over as if he'd taken a fist to the gut. "No. Why is he here? Why is he here?"

Adam rose as well, opening his mouth as if to speak. But a quick glance from Kris and he closed it, smiling and shrugging instead.

"You should sit down, Tommy." Kris drew nearer. "We have a lot to talk about."

Tommy sat on the edge of the couch, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, keeping his body small. Kris sat next to him, albeit it at a safe distance away, as if he knew that to sit too close would cause Tommy to bolt.

Adam was in a chair opposite them, his long legs wide and casual, as though this were a social visit. Tommy would sneak glances at him every so often, noting with some satisfaction the bruising that adorned his face.

Mostly though, he kept his eyes on Kris, because it was Kris who was speaking.

"Adam and I are together, Tommy. We have been since the mansion."

Bewildered, Tommy looked over to Adam, then back to Kris. That didn't make sense, that didn't make any sense at all. "But . . ."

"We hate that we have to be secretive about it, but we're at a point at our careers where we have to be careful. Something like this could ruin us before we're established. So we're on this two-year plan."

Kris smiled, gentle and easy like he had the night of the party. Except that Tommy didn't trust that smile anymore. He didn't trust anything anymore.

"First thing was to get rid of that cunt," Adam said.

"Adam . . ."

"Sorry. That bitch. Is that better?" Adam said, smiling sweetly.

"Adam doesn't like Katy much," Kris said, sounding amused. "I can't really blame him. She did have a habit of hanging around when least wanted. Almost like she knew. But he's right, I had to get a divorce first. We're separated now. The divorce is coming soon. A couple more months at the most."

Kris took a breath, shifting back into a more serious tone. "Anyway, during Idol, during the tour, things weren't so bad. Adam and I were together all the time. But then that ended and we had to go separate ways, barely seeing each other. And the thing is . . . Adam's a really physical person. He needed someone. So, he found Drake. But that didn't work out. And then he found you."

Tommy looked over to Adam, could see him leaning forward in his chair, eyes blazing with intensity. "I told you, Tommy. It was meant to be you. It was fate that drew you into my life."

Tommy turned away, almost tempted to put his hands to his ears, because he couldn't listen to that shit. It didn't make sense, none of this made sense. "I don't understand," he said, talking to Kris now; accusing, hurt. "You were so nice at the party. You were worried. You gave me the fucking note."

Kris rolled his eyes and gave a small laugh, looking both embarrassed and amused at the same time. "Oh, that. Yeah, that was . . . a game, mostly. I wanted to see what you'd say, what you'd do."

"Oh, God." Tommy hugged his knees in tighter. Now he did understand, or was beginning to. But he didn't want to. He'd rather be ignorant and stupid than to understand how fucked up this really was.

"I told Adam, that night, after seeing you in person, what a good job he'd done in finding you." Kris' voice dipped lower, his fingertips brushing along Tommy's leg.

Tommy jumped, pushing back against the couch, stuck because he really had nowhere to go.

"I never expected you to just show up at my house like this, though. When Adam called me last night and told me what happened, we both figured Adam was fucked. I mean, Tommy, you could have gone anywhere, a friend, the police, the hospital. But instead you show up here." Kris shook his head as if he still couldn't believe it. "We were so lucky that you showed up here instead."

"And Kris," Adam said, "being a much better actor than anyone gives him credit for, fixed everything. Didn't you, baby?"

Kris blushed, looked down. "Not really." He lifted his head, focusing on Tommy. "It was just really important that you bathe. There couldn't be any evidence, just in case you decided to turn Adam in."

Hearing those words was the final straw. Tommy had been keeping it together until now, mostly through sheer force of will. But he'd been slowly and steadily nearing a breaking point. And every single word coming out of Kris' mouth had brought him a little closer.

Now he was there.

He dropped his head onto his arms, tears sliding down his face. He had never felt so lost, like he was drifting in an endless sea, no chance to pull himself out, no one to help him.

"Hey, it's ok."

Tommy felt a hand, Kris', petting at his hair with long, gentle strokes.

"It's ok. I'm glad you came here. I was able to take care of you. I know that Adam has particular tastes and I know that it can be hard sometimes. And he has a temper. He should never have hurt you like that."

"He hit me first," Adam protested.

Kris ignored him, continuing to stroke. It felt nice, a line thrown to him when he needed it the most. Tommy didn't dwell on how fucked up it was, taking comfort from the person who'd betrayed him. "Still," Kris continued, "he never should have let it go that far. We should have seen the signs for this coming. Should have managed this better."

Tommy dared to look up, wiping at his eyes with one hand. He was so tired and felt so defeated and his thoughts wouldn't gel. Was Kris being nice or was he the monster? Did he trust this? Did he run?

"You shouldn't have hit Adam either. That was wrong," Kris said, and then he shifted, lifting his body until he was straddling Tommy. Tommy had no choice but to accommodate, to turn his own body until his legs were on the floor before him, until his arms were at his side.

"You understand, right?" Kris asked. He was still petting at Tommy's hair, one hand brushing against the tears at his cheek. "You can't hurt Adam."

"I don't . . ." Tommy tried to say, but he really couldn't breathe and still his thoughts were a jumbled mess, and now Adam was moving, up from his chair and sitting beside them on the couch. Adam's hand was stroking the back of Tommy's neck, as gentle as Kris' touch.

"You still need the job, Tommy. You still need the money. But it will be better now, I promise," Adam said, whispering the words into Tommy's ear. "Kris will make sure. He knows me. He knows what I need, he knows how to control it."

Tommy shook his head; so lost, he was still so fucking lost. "I don't know . . . I can't."

And then he was looking up into Kris' eyes, warm and brown and kind, Kris' hands holding his face steady. "It's going to be better, Tommy. You and me and Adam. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you both. I promise."

And Adam's hand was urging him forward while Kris leaned down. Then Kris' lips were against his, kissing him as if he were fragile, as if to move too quickly would cause him to break.

Except that he was already broken. Tommy was pretty sure. How else to explain his slight nod, the way he opened up for Kris' mouth, the way he opened for Adam's right after?

Like sealing a deal. Like signing on the dotted line all over again.


End file.
